Genmate Forsaken by Cara Bristol

Author:Cara Bristol [Bristol, Cara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cara Bristol
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

From afar, the river had resembled a ribbon winding through the valley, a challenge but not an insurmountable one. Hiking down the mountain, he’d caught glimpses of serene water through the trees. Eying it from the bank, he realized wading across this wide swathe of swift-moving water would result in their drowning.

He recalled the flash flood and the tainted pond that had sickened Lala. Thus far, her symptoms appeared mild. He didn’t think she had swallowed that much—he’d stopped her as soon as he could.

He glowered at the river. He needed a boat. Where the fuck would he get a boat?

Lala couldn’t swim. He could, but not all the way across a wide river. His half-baked idea to have her hang onto a tree branch or other flotsam while he swam and towed her to the other side wouldn’t work.

Behind him, he heard Lala’s sigh of relief and the plop of her pack as she dropped it onto the sandy beach. He flung off his own, frustrated with the river, himself, and her. Her arguments and tone sounded sincere, but he couldn’t overlook her lies and deception. She’d been very convincing as a Verital. He’d never doubted her. Not for an instant.

However, to be on the safe side, he’d act as if her AI would contact the High Council in twelve days. There was a good chance the ’Topians weren’t at the caves, but had vacated the planet, in which case he and his crew would haul ass out of this sector. He’d take Lala and figure out a long-term solution later.

He paced along the bank. Would the water be more placid farther down or upstream? Maybe he could teach her to float…

Float! He dropped to his knees, tore his pack open, and pulled out the air bed. Once inflated, it would float, but could the material withstand the beating the river would deliver? He glowered at his watery nemesis, noting riffles and eddies, an indication of submerged rocks and logs. He’d have to find a paddle of sorts or they’d drift downstream, opposite the desired direction. It wouldn’t take much to puncture the thin material. If they got halfway, and the bed got deflated, Lala would drown. Him, too, probably.

With a curse, he shoved the bed into the pack and stood up. I need a boat. Any kind of boat. Row boat. Canoe. Herian, even a sturdy raft…

He scanned the valley floor, taking in the fallen timber, exposed roots and vines. Maybe he could lash together a raft? It would be crude, but as long as it floated, it would work.

Conscious of Lala’s scrutiny, he strode away over the flatland to a small log about six feet long and six inches in diameter. He held it up to test its weight, deciding he’d better start building his raft on the bank to make it easier to push it into the water.

If it didn’t float, he’d have to risk the air bed.

“Go collect some vines,” he told Lala. “The longest ones you can find.

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